


Let's Set The World On Fire

by shortstack (nimbleCustardlegs)



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, M/M, Romance, SO SORRY, nsfw-ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:12:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6248521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimbleCustardlegs/pseuds/shortstack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man had come crashing into his life like a firework. He was the burn in your throat as you drank whiskey at 3 in the morning. </p><p>Rick was the splash of colour Stan didn’t even realise he was missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little extract from a longer work

Stan sighed softly, lips curving into a fond smile as he glanced across at Rick - the man had his temple resting on the glass, the rush of air from where window was slightly open ruffling his dark hair as the light from the sunset bathed him in a soft orange glow. 

Stan didn’t write poetry, but if he did, he figured most of it would be about Rick. The man had come crashing into his life like a firework. He was the burn in your throat as you drank whiskey at 3 in the morning. 

Rick was the splash of colour Stan didn’t even realise he was missing.

They say finding your soulmate was rare, and finding them so young was even rarer. Stan supposed it was life finally giving him a bit of luck after the shitstorm the rest of it had been.

Not that Rick calmed his life down by any stretch. He was as unpredictable. One minute he’d be laying on the couch, watching TV, and then next he’d be fucking Stan over the coffee table, or yelling and ranting about something or other.

But it worked for them. Their relationship wasn’t conventional. They never told the other ‘I love you’ on a regular basis. Stan can count on one hand the amount of times Rick had even said the word ‘love’ in relation to a person. When Stan had gotten the letter from his brother saying he’d wanted to re-connect, Stan hadn’t even thought about leaving Rick behind. He’d become such a huge part of his life, Stan hadn’t even considered it. Now, as Stan watched the sun dip below the horizon and the shadows lengthen on Rick’s face, he realised he couldn’t leave Rick. He didn’t want to.


	2. Chapter One - Full

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the full first chapter.

Stan sighed softly, lips curving into a fond smile as he glanced across at Rick - the man had his temple resting on the glass, the rush of air from where window was slightly open ruffling his dark hair as the light from the sunset bathed him in a soft orange glow. 

Stan didn’t write poetry, but if he did, he figured most of it would be about Rick. The man had come crashing into his life like a firework. He was the burn in your throat as you drank whiskey at 3 in the morning. 

Rick was the splash of colour Stan didn’t even realise he was missing.

They say finding your soulmate was rare, and finding them so young was even rarer. Stan supposed it was life finally giving him a bit of luck after the shitstorm the rest of it had been.

Not that Rick calmed his life down by any stretch. He was as unpredictable. One minute he’d be laying on the couch, watching TV, and then next he’d be fucking Stan over the coffee table, or yelling and ranting about something or other.

But it worked for them. Their relationship wasn’t conventional. They never told the other ‘I love you’ on a regular basis. Stan can count on one hand the amount of times Rick had even said the word ‘love’ in relation to a person. 

When Stan had gotten the letter from his brother saying he’d wanted to re-connect, Stan hadn’t even thought about leaving Rick behind. He’d become such a huge part of his life, Stan hadn’t even considered it.

Now, as Stan watched the sun dip below the horizon and the shadows lengthen on Rick’s face, he realised he couldn’t leave Rick. He didn’t want to.

\-----------

On second thought, maybe forcing Rick into a car for ten hours a day with nothing to do wasn’t the best idea.

“Rick, you can-” He started, exasperated.

“Can, and will.” Came the interruption. Rick was currently half-bent over some sort of odd contraption. “This’ll- This’ll make us go t-twice as fast with h-h-half the fuel.”

“You are not attaching that thing to my baby.” Stan said firmly. 

“Whatever.” Rick dismissed easily. 

“Not ‘whatever.’ I mean it, Sanchez, don’t you dare put that on my car.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t.” Rick muttered distractedly, tinkering with something inside the weird machine he’d created.

Stan huffed, turning his attention to the road again. They’d crossed the state line an hour ago, but they still had a couple of hours left of driving before they got to Gravity Falls. Which was lucky, because-

“Stan, I gotta piss.” Rick whined, shoving the hunk of metal into the back seat.

“I told you to go before we left!” Stan rolled his eyes. It was so typical of Rick to not listen to him, only for Stan to be proven right.

“I didn’t have to g-go then, I g-gotta go now.”

“You’re like a child.” Stan huffed.

“C’mon, asshole, p-pull over!” Rick protested, squirming in his seat.

Stan did, and Rick got out, moving further into the forest. When he got back, neither of them spoke, but Stan started driving again.

\---------

Rick was asleep again. Well, he wasn’t so much asleep as unconscious from ingesting copious amounts of alcohol.

Stan knew it wasn’t healthy, but he didn’t have the heart to stop him as he’d babbled drunkenly, words slurred and voice cracking every couple of sentences.

Maybe at some point he’d get Rick to quit. 

He glanced over to the dark haired man and sighed. Maybe one day. He thought, and pulled into a small side road, leading to a dead end. 

After making sure Rick wouldn’t choke on his own vomit (again) and tossing a blanket over him, Stan leaned his seat back and settled down to sleep.

\---------

As was becoming far too common to be comforting, Stan was woken up by the sound of vomiting. 

With a small sigh, he sat up in order to comfort Rick, who would no doubt be grumpy as hell, and therefore snippy and aggressive. 

Rick had thrown up into his own lap, and was now dry-heaving, body convulsing with each gag. 

That would be the third blanket in a month they’d need to throw away. Stan wasn’t even sure why he bothered.

He knew exactly why he bothered, actually. Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone.

He could barely admit it to himself.

Making soft, soothing noises and rubbing Rick’s back usually helped, so that’s what Stan did, and eventually, Rick leaned back in his seat and shut his eyes against the rising sun, wiping his mouth with one hand.

Stan tossed the soiled blanket out of the window and turned on the car. 

“Where’d y-you put the sunglasses?” Rick whispered raspily.

“Glove compartment.” Stan grunted back, ignoring the sounds of Rick shuffling around in there. “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“Mnh, thanks.” And with that, Rick was passed out against the window, which was now covered in drool. The glasses were digging into his face in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable, but Stan made to move to take them off.

Stan sighed again. He loved Rick, really, he did, but he wasn’t sure how much trouble it was worth sometimes.

\---------

Rick squeezed Stan’s hand. “We don’t g-gotta go in y-y-yet if you do-don’t wanna.” He assured, leaning his head on Stan’s shoulder.

They were parked in the driveway of the house Ford had said was his, and Stan couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d been so terrified.

“Hey, Stan. C-C’mon, look at- look at me.” Rick coaxed. “‘S gonna b-be fine. I’ll k-kick his ass.”

“You? Seriously? You weigh like nintey pounds soaking wet.” Stan teased, though it was half-hearted.

“Yeah, y-yeah, Pines. J-Just ‘cause I don’t h-have the body of a w-wrestler.”   
Stan took a breath, and unclicked his seatbelt. “Come on, then. I, personally, would love to see you clock Ford right in the face.”

Rick grinned wolfishly at him. “Your w-wish is my c-command, my lord.”


End file.
